Forgotten Stories
by Book2romantic
Summary: Do all vampires keep out of human affairs and history? Have no vampires like Carlisle ever tried to stop all the horror that humanity subjected itself to? Not the usual Twilight Fanfiction, but it's in the same universe.
1. Faith

_Everything I've seen, everything I've lived through, it made a lot of people lose their faith. The holocaust, the war, losing friends and family. It made a lot of people wonder if there was any god. If there was, what was he doing? Others decided to retreat straight into faith, clinging to God as the only thing that had a chance of saving us, holding onto our identity, the thing that made us who we were._

_I believed in God, more profoundly than ever after all those horrors. But I wouldn't say I had faith._

_You can't imagine how he seemed when I first saw him. Everyone else, our strongest, those most capable of fighting, we were nothing but sticks. Our emaciated bodies kept up only by will and sheer desperation. But not him. He swore he wasn't a god, or an angel, but he looked like that to me. Black hair blowing in the wind as he tore through them all alone, pale skin that seemed to sparkle in the flames and the moonlight. Wiser than he could be at his age, and stronger and faster than anything. If God sent him, I couldn't tell you, but for something so perfect to have been made, I had to believe that there was a God. There was no other way._

_He claimed that we might as well think him a demon. He said there were others like him. They had a policy of noninterference he said, of never letting humans realize they exist. But he said it was wrong for anyone to just stand by. So he fought beside us, and when we couldn't fight anymore, he fought for us, until the end. Never tiring. Never slowing. Our futile champion._

_I never saw how it ended. A child like me, they made sure that I was one of the first out. And if he made it out, would we have even known? Or would he just be gone, as abruptly as he appeared to us that night in Warsaw?_

**This is just a short prologue for a story I might do. I don't even know if it should happen, so be sure and tell me what you think. The chapters would certainly be longer.**

**But I was thinking one day, of all that Edward and Carlisle and the ancient, centuries old vampires had been through. All they had seen. We think they must view us as cattle, just short lived food, those that eat us, but can you blame them? What must they have had to stand by and watch us do to each other? All the torture and death, tearing down all our own greatest works, who could think that we were human? That we were equal?**

**Or did some of them act? Did they take up arms and try to stop it all? And what happened to their stories?**


	2. New Tricks

Red eyes gazed upon the city. It seemed largely unchanged, unphased by the fact that the rest of the world was burning outside the city limits.

"Now, when they are organized and up in arms, it's more critical than ever that we not draw the attention of humanity," stated the black haired ancient. The shorter man he addressed, though also black haired and pale, bore little other resemblance. The physical contrast was farther highlight dress, as the older wore a tailored suit compared with the younger's trench coat, and demeanor, stately calm against nervous anger.

"Are they our master's then, Aro? Do we live in fear of what the _humans_ could do to us?"

"Hardly. Think of us more as shepherds who don't want to have to cull the herd."

"Exactly. If you have a mad dog, you put him down. This is madness what they're doing."

"This isn't the first time. It won't be the last. This is just the one you've heard about, the one getting trumpeted. Where were you for the Armenians, what, two decades ago? And all those generations for the Africans, you never lifted a hand. The native people in every land ever 'discovered.' And those are just the recent ones."

"Past inaction doesn't make it right. We should have intervened then. We could have managed it, small enough that no one would ever know, not so that they could believe."

"No. There's no point to it. And as you feel so strongly, I have to ask you to remain here for the duration of the human's disagreement." He inclined his head towards a small figure standing by the doorway.

"No." A hand lashed out, clasping the elder's hand.

"Stop, Jane." He watched the schematics of the explosives concealed under the trench coat as they were painstakingly crafted in the other's mind. And saw in his own mind, memories of the speed with which his conversational companion could move. Quicker than thought. Quick enough that the heat and pressure from those chemicals sewn into his suit to bring down the building and any vampire nearby.

"I've learned some tricks from the humans," heard twice, the sound of it arriving like the ghost of the thoughts he heard moments before.

"Let him go, Jane." Out the window flashed the younger man, leaving behind two motionless figures.

"He'll cause problems," proclaimed a petulant voice from the doorway.

"Nothing major. Nothing we can't contain."

"Where's he going?"

"Back to his home. Not that it matters."

"Should I get Demetri?"

"No. Let's see what comes of this."

***

_I'd been sitting at a table listening to the adults bicker. Looking back, twelve was much to young to think I could really do anything. But we were all crazy and desperate, and at least I wasn't old enough to realize that I couldn't do anything. We knew that the deportations were starting again soon. I didn't know when, but I think most of the adults knew a date. Some might even have known a specific time._

_One moment, a child is sitting listening to four men arguing about how to best throw away the lives of the men and women who were under their command. The next, she was joined by a short, stocky man whose face she can't see underneath coat and scarf. _

_"Are they always like this?" he asked me quietly. The adults still hadn't noticed this apparition's sudden and soundless entrance. Or my wide eyed shock._

_"More often recently," I finally whispered back as I found my voice again._

_The men finally noticed. They all made a grab for the pistols they had at their hips, but found that the stranger, in the time it had taken them to move, had snatched them all and returned to his seat by me. Four pistols now laid on the floor in front of him, each perfectly disassembled as if for cleaning._

_"Who are you?" demanded Leon (the one in charge of supplies, not the one in charge of intelligence)._

_"It doesn't matter. I'm here to help." The scarf unwrapped, revealing a brilliant and predatory smile. "I'm feeling particularly sacrilegious though, so you can call me Elijah."_

**Once again, I swear these will get longer. I'm writing this right now to keep me from falling asleep before my analysis class after pulling an all nighter. Is it good? Is it terrible? What did you think of the deliberately odd third person? I usually write in first person, and even when I write in third it is usually less obtuse than that. Comment if you think I should continue. And to help me stay awake.**


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